


The Rule of Three

by AnOddSock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, And just when you think it might get better it just gets a different kind of bad, Angels, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Blood, Bondage, Breathplay, Canon Compliant, Dean Has a Bad Day, Demons, Drugged Dean, Drugged Sam, Everything is non-con here, Gags, Handcuffs, Injury, M/M, Mentions of hell, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rituals, Rope Bondage, Season/Series 04, The Seals, ish, mentions of torture, non-consensual handjob, spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOddSock/pseuds/AnOddSock
Summary: “We need him too, boy.” the old man said.“What for? What are you planning?” Dean growled, dragging his eyes away from his brother to question them all.~Apparently there might be a way to stop the apocalypse. Sam and Dean are not so sure this is a legitimate idea. Apparently they're not being given a choice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a thought experiment of how you could tie up the Winchesters in such a way that it would make it harder for them to get free, and then became...this.
> 
> Set during Season Four, during the breaking of the Seals story arc

* * *

Sam woke first. He was laid on his stomach on cold, hard ground, a rough surface pressing into his right cheek.

His thoughts came in fragments and floated away again before he could fully grasp hold of them. He felt oddly detached and there was a calm that came with that, but something urgent was fluttering at the back of his mind that wouldn't fully take shape.

He tried to remember...anything before now. He remembered being in the car with Dean. And then? The case, he remembered being on a case. Signs of demon activity in a small town. The name...the name? He knew they were in Wisconsin, South West. He could picture the main street...

And they'd been in town a day, he thought. Possibly. Part of a day? Investigation turning up nothing. So they'd...called it for the night. Motel, bed. Then?

Breakfast?

There had been breakfast.

The diner had felt odd, deserted, putting them both a little on edge, but it was a small town so what were you going to do? He still couldn't remember the name, maybe it wasn't important.

So they'd had breakfast. And then...then Dean had fallen down. No that can't be right. Dean doesn't fall over...he. He said his waffles tasted strange and…

Drugged. They'd been drugged. Sam remembered feeling heavy and slow and the prick of a needle in his arm and a slowly spreading warmth.

And then he was here.

Sam snapped his eyes open, adrenalin thrumming through him at his realisation, and found himself a few feet from bare stone wall. He shifted his gaze and saw a doorway leading up stone steps half a dozen paces away. It was cold, and still. Something uneasy in Sam told him he was underground. It wasn't dark though, light was streaming in from somewhere and it felt like the bright light of the middle of the day; it couldn't have been more than a few hours since he lost consciousness. He hoped anyway, or he’d been out for more than a day.

Sam tried to shift, to shake the left over heaviness from his limbs, only to find he couldn't. His limbs weren’t responding, not because of the drugs, but because they were bound.

His arms were pulled behind him, hands resting together over the small of his back. His legs were laid out straight and he could feel how tightly they were tied together, now he was thinking about it, knees pressed against each other almost painfully, feet able to wiggle but not pull apart.

Sam breathed deeply through his nose. They'd both got free of bindings before, many times, he could do it again.

Sam focused on trying to twist his hands to reach the knots around his wrists, only to find he couldn't uncurl his fingers. He wiggled his thumb and felt soft resistance.  
Material. There was material wrapped around his hands, forcing his fingers into a fist. That fact sent Sam's fuzzy and still half sedated mind into a panic.

He lifted his head to turn and survey the room and found himself profoundly dizzy. Groaning and trying not to throw up, Sam rested his forehead against the cool ground. He breathed to the count of thirty and when the worst had passed he laid his left cheek to the floor and opened his eyes again.

 _Dean_.

Dean was there. About ten feet away, in the middle of what was a long stone room. A cellar maybe?

Dean wasn't conscious and was stripped down to just his jeans, torso bare. He was kneeling, facing Sam, there was a metal pole at his back, a scaffolding pole Sam thought. His arms were pinioned over and behind his head secured around the pole with handcuffs, preventing him from keeling over.

Dean was slumped in his bonds, his head hanging low. Sam didn't envy him having to wake up like that.

Still, he did need to wake up. Sam tried calling out to him but Dean didn't stir, and he wouldn't until the drugs were out of his system. It shouldn't be long though, they weren't that different in size or weight.

Sam pushed his worry for Dean to the back of his mind and went back to focusing on his own predicament. He tried to grab at the material around his hands with his knuckles, hoping to pull it free, but he couldn't find a fold to pinch. The few times he did manage to snag it between his fingers the material didn't budge.

Sam felt his mind slowly clearing. He took stock of the room, long, not too wide, ceiling lost somewhere up in rafters. There were long narrow windows high up the walls through which strong beams of sunlight streamed in, dappling on the floor at intervals.

The light didn't show up anything that would be helpful in escape.  
The room was empty except for him, and Dean, and the pole Dean was fastened around. And Sam still couldn't remember the name of the town they were in. It felt suddenly incredibly important, like if he could remember that he'd know his brain was back on track and then maybe they'd have a chance at getting out of here.

Dean moaned and his head drooped even lower.

“Dean! Hey, Dean. C'mon wake up!”

“Sam?” Dean's voice was rough and slurred.

“I'm here. We were drugged. You gotta breathe deep, try and stay with me okay?”

Dean sucked in a breath and swung his head back - it collided with the pole with a ringing thud. He groaned loudly and Sam shifted to glance at the stairway entrance, wondering if their conversation would alert their captors that they were awake.

Sam heard metal clanking on metal and turned back to find Dean trying to move out of his kneeling position. He pulled uselessly at his arms, squinting his eyes in confusion and concentration.

“What…Sam?” He mumbled, “Fuck these cuffs are tight.”

Dean fully opened his eyes and let his gaze wander the room before settling on Sam. Sam grimaced at him.

“Have you still got your lock picks on you?”

“I'm going to guess they searched us for anything small and pointy.” Dean sounded groggy. “I'd feel a lot better if I still had my shoes.”

“What? They took your shoes?”

“Hard to put ankle cuffs on someone wearing boots Sam.” Dean said as he yanked the chain around his wrists against the pole in frustration.  
“Any idea where we are?”

“No, I figure basement is pretty obvious, but beyond that...Can you stand up, get a look out those windows?”

“My ankles are cuffed.” Dean said again, as if that would make Sam understand.

“Get your legs out from under you, let me look at the cuffs.”

“I can't move my feet forward Sam, they're chained to this!” he slapped the pole to emphasise his point.

Sam felt his eyes widen. That...would make things difficult.

    ~             ~            ~

Dean tried to shake the foggy drugged feeling out of his head but it made him feel like his eyes were vibrating and his stomach churned so he stopped.

The precautions taken, immobilizing him completely, made him apprehensive. But his more immediate concern was that he really didn't like the way the soles of his feet were numb and his lower legs were on fire with pins and needles. He couldn't shuffle forwards, the chain connecting his ankles around the pole wasn't long enough, but he could shift upwards.

He raised his hands higher over his head twisting a hand to grip the pole and then hoisted himself up. He bent his toes against the floor, hoping to get up onto his tiptoes and then the flat of his feet and stand up. He had to arch his back to accommodate his chained arms. The angle was all wrong and as one foot pulled forward to settle on the floor the short chain on the cuffs forced his other foot further back, and Dean was too groggy to sort out how to balance it all.

He settled for wiggling his knees back a fraction to straighten his legs from the knee up and then clenched his thighs to hold himself there as long as possible.

Not great, and his centre of gravity was thrown off, but any change in position had to be good.

“Have they been down here yet? How long’ve you been awake?” He asked.

“Just a few minutes, and no I haven't seen anyone yet. Any idea what we're up against?”

Dean thought about that for a beat.  
“No, they just seemed like people at the diner,I didn't smell sulphur. But it's not like I had chance to check the servers or anything.”

Sam strained at the ropes holding him and Dean took a few seconds to really look at them and realised how thorough they were. His hands were covered with fabric which looked to be duct taped to his wrists and the ropes lashing his hands together were thin, making tight knots.

The ropes around his knees and ankles were much the same, and the knots on those were covered with duct tape too, so even if Sam could belly crawl his way over it would take a long time to work the bindings open. Especially with the option of using his hands pretty much out of the question.

Sam noticed him looking and shook his head confirming he was held as securely as it looked.

“Someone really knew what they were doing. Maybe if you get over here I can get them open with my teeth.” He was doubtful and he knew he sounded it too, but there weren't many other choices, and sitting here to wait for someone to free them, or kill them, was not a choice Dean was going to make.

He was starting to shake with the exertion of holding himself up so let himself slide back down, widening his knees and resting his ass onto his feet again, and bent his arms to clasp his hands together behind his neck.  
He felt his muscles clenching and contracting, an outlet for his anger and jittery nerves. He forced himself to still, energy was precious and there was no point in wasting it.

Dean was glad it was him and not Sam who was handcuffed and half naked; he felt better than he knew he would had they woken up in the reverse situation. Whatever, whoever, this was, if their attention was focused more on Dean, that was just fine by him.

     ~           ~           ~

Sam's head was feeling much less foggy, thoughts coming back at normal speed and Elroy, Elroy Wisconsin, that was the town they had been in.

Relieved that his mind was back online, that he was fully in control of his faculties again, Sam was more confident trying to move without bringing up the small amount of breakfast he'd had chance to eat. He rolled onto his side and swung his legs out in front of him.  
It took three attempts but he managed to lever himself into an upright position, wriggling to shuffle himself across the floor towards Dean.

He hadn't moved more than a foot when they heard a door scrape open and voices descending the stairs.  
Sam locked eyes with Dean and they had a brief silent exchange

_Lie back down_

_Keep them talking_

_Don't let it escalate until we have a way out_

Sam swivelled his legs back around and dropped down onto his left side, hitting the stone floor with enough force to bruise.

He peered over his shoulder to see five people congregating at the foot of the stairs. They weren't standing in the light enough to get a good look at. Nobody spoke.

Sam looked back at Dean and raised his eyebrows.

“Wanna tell us why we're here fellas?” Dean asked, voice hard but with enough bravado that Sam noticed a couple of the people turn to look at each other, like they were surprised their prisoners weren't balling messes.

An older, slightly greying lady stepped forward into the light. She looked... well she looked normal, Sam thought; long skirt and button down cardigan, like someone who would never be involved in something like this. But then people always did surprise you.

“You're Dean Winchester,” she said. It wasn't a question.

“And you are?” Dean replied.

“We're going to stop the apocalypse.”

     ~        ~         ~

Dean really hadn't expected that one. He stopped, stunned.

“The apocalypse? What the hell do any of you know about the apocalypse?”

“We know plenty. We know who you and your brother are. We know you broke the first seal. And we're going to make sure no more seals can be broken.”

“That's not possible, if there was a way to protect the rest of them we'd know about it! We've been looking.” Sam spoke up.

“There is a way, and we have it. And now we have you,” she said. She turned and nodded and two younger men stepped forward towards Sam.

They walked to him and one pulled Sam upright by his shoulders while the other forced his mouth open and shoved a large wad of material between his jaws.

“Hey! Hey! Don't touch my brother!” Dean yelled, his heart picking up speed and a twist of fear in his gut. In a surge of desperation Dean tried to scramble to his feet forgetting how much of a balancing act that would be. The chain connecting his ankles to the pole pulled short as he lurched upward too quickly, and he crashed back to his knees with bone crunching slam.

Powerless to do anything to help, he watched as the men wound a thin strip of cloth around Sam's face, keeping the makeshift gag firmly lodged in his mouth.

They dropped Sam unceremoniously back to the ground and then dragged him further away from Dean again, while Sam made muffled shouts and tried to dig his heels into the floor.  
The others were moving around, unloading armfuls of baskets and bowls, setting jars and candles on the ground and talking too low for Dean to make out any words.

Keeping a careful eye on Sam, making sure nothing else was happening to him, Dean tried to get a read on the rest of the people in the room. The two young guys and the older woman he'd seen clearly but the other two hadn't stepped out of the shadows yet. They moved now and he saw that one was a young girl with blonde hair and one an older man, who stopped by the older woman and clasped her hand firmly as they spoke together.

Were they married? Were these their kids?

“What is this, some weird family reunion?”. He felt better, more in control, with a sharp remark on the tip of his tongue.

“Eli came to us” said the old woman, and pointed to the brown haired man next to Sam “and told us what we needed to do. We never would have believed him until he showed us what he was.”

Eli stepped forward and grinned a wide mouthed grin while flashing black eyes at Dean.

“You're a demon. You know he's a demon right?”

“Of course.” the old man said.

“And you trust him?” Dean asked incredulously.

“We trust his information. And that he brought all of us together with the skills that we need.” the blonde woman replied.

“And if he kills you when you're done here?” Dean said, hoping to find a crack in their logic somewhere.

“Then he kills us, but at least we save the world first.” the greying lady spoke, with a finality that she seemed to think would end the discussion.

Dean felt the situation slipping further out of his hands. They'd never been in a good position but being outnumbered five to two, and with no leverage to work with, he felt things tilt ominously.  
But Dean was good at rolling with the punches. He could be impulsive and he could run his mouth and sometimes that's just what a situation called for.

“Okay, look, hey!” He shouted to get the old woman's attention. She turned her back to him and cocked her head like she really thought he might have something interesting to say.

“Okay so you say you've got a way to fix the seals? Then let us help! We want to see this stopped too.”

“You won't like our method. It's not pretty.” She said.

“That's fine, we can do ugly!”

“No. You really won't do this willingly, and it's easier this way.” and she turned away again.  
So what, they were going to try and force them to agree to play along?

“Fine. If you really know who we are, and you know I broke the first seal, then you know where I was when I did it. And you know what that means. You can't break me, not up here, topside. Not like this. I won't agree to do...whatever you want me to do.”

Dean heard his own voice harden, all of the rough edge he'd been trying to keep hidden for months forcing it's way to the surface. These people didn't know what they were up against, he'd been through hell, literally, he could be as hard as stone if they tried to push him. They would crash against him like waves on rocks and he wouldn't break.

But then his eyes flicked to Sam, Sam who was something they could break him with, and he felt his resolve tremble a little. He had to keep them focused on him, that was all.

“You don't need to agree to anything. You just need to be right there.”

Dean looked at Sam and frowned. It didn't seem like this discussion was getting them anywhere. He pulled uselessly at his restraints, his shoulders were really aching now from his arms being pulled back and up, and the way his torso had to arch slightly to accommodate that had started a tight straining pinch around his ribs. He shifted to lift himself up again, just to change the position of his muscles a little, but the older guy walked over and placed a hand on each shoulder, shoving him back down to rest on his feet again.

“None of that now, no need to strain yourself.” he said it like he meant it, like he cared.

Dean glared up at him and addressed the room as a whole, not really knowing who was in charge.

“So you need me, fine. You've got me. But my brother is innocent in this. You let him go and I'll cooperate.”

Sam made a low muffled sound and Dean saw him shaking his head and twisting at his ropes, the young guy standing over him placed a rough hand on Sam’s shoulder and Sam stilled, flicking his eyes between him and Dean.

“We need him too, boy.” the old man said.

“What for? What are you planning?” Dean growled, dragging his eyes away from his brother to question them all.

“This spell,”

“ -ritual!” the young woman corrected.

“Sorry, this ritual, calls for the life force of the man who broke the first seal, and a catalyst, someone that person would die for - did die for, I suppose, in this case - who will be the sacrifice to activate it. Of course it's almost unheard of for anyone to come back from hell, but Eli knew that you had, fortuitous really or else we wouldn't be able to do this.” the old woman said and smiled sadly at Dean. “Once we've completed, and Sam's blood is spilled on the site, you will both burn up and that fire will burn through the rest of the seals rendering them useless.”

“That's crazy.” Dean tried to work through this possibility with the information he, Sam, and Bobby had about the seals so far. “We've never heard of anything like this.”

“You wouldn't. It's a little known about idea, the righteous man was never supposed to be back from hell in the first place so hardly anyone would think it possible. So you can thank your angels for this turn of events.” Eli said with a sneer.

Quiet settled over the room for a moment, all four people, and one demon, looking at each other in turn.

“I think we're ready.” the blonde woman said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to WingstoCarryOn, for being a lovely beta and making sure I didn't make too many mistakes or write too many things that didn't make sense!
> 
> The rest of this is written, just some final editing and I'll get the next chapters up


	2. Chapter 2

Sam’s mind was working furiously, trying to piece together everything these people had said and make some sense out of it, make it fit with anything they already knew, but as Dean had said they’d never heard anything like it before.  
Sam looked at his brother and saw his own worry reflected back at him, neither of them liked where this was heading and it didn’t seem like Dean could see a way out either.

The young woman was taking charge now, laying out ingredients in a line facing Dean. Sam watched her direct the others telling them where to put things. Maybe she was a witch. None of them seemed that comfortable with the situation though, they were all a little jumpy like they had never done anything like this before. Maybe the demon had just picked people who he knew could get the job done but who didn’t have any actual experience.

Sam realised the young man standing guard over him was walking away. He watched him walk up to Dean and grab his face and Sam cried out before he even really meant to, most of the sound lost in the gag. When he moved away Sam saw that he’d forced a thin line of material between Dean’s teeth, pulling his cheeks back. Dean shook his head, trying to dislodge it, which did exactly nothing.

“I’m sorry about that Dean, Sam.” the greying woman spoke, looking at them each it turn. “We just can’t have you interfering while we start the ritual.”

Sam glared at her. He locked eyes with Dean again who rolled his eyes dramatically.

Sam watched carefully as they spent the next half an hour meticulously painting a large sigil on floor around Dean. It was painted with thick red blood and the metallic tang of it filled the room and left Sam feeling heady and sick with nerves.

Bowls with crystals, for focusing Sam guessed, sprinkled with oils and, inexplicably, charcoal, were placed around the edges like markers on a clock face, a candle lit by each one.

They chanted in broken Greek and what sounded like Armenian at intervals while they did it and Sam realised this was why he and Dean had been gagged, no way to disturb the flow of words if you couldn't form any. If his gag had been less thorough, as Dean's was, Sam picked out important sections that he could have disrupted with incomplete sounds. He worried that they knew he was more likely to be able to do that than Dean, and that's why they'd taken more precautions with him, it bothered him to think they knew such specific information about them both.

He wondered what the woman had meant by “The life force of the man who had broken the first seal” and tried to decide if these were people who had the stomach for draining Dean of his blood. But if that was their plan, why wait for them both to wake up when it would have been easier to do it while they were unconscious?

Dean was restless and Sam couldn't decide how much of that was the position he was forced into or if it was coiled nerves as they waited to see what happened next. Sam watched him shift again, wriggling on his knees and curling his right arm around to rest his head against his inner forearm.

All five of the group were being extremely careful where they placed their feet now so as not to disturb the painted lines, Dean tried once to scrub out the marks nearest his knees by shuffling back and forth, but he wasn't near enough. The old man noticed though and Eli came forward and punched Dean forcefully in the stomach, so he didn't try again.

Dean grunted at them anytime someone looked to be approaching him and spat half formed curses at the room at large, his gag swallowing any finesse but none of his meaning.

    ~       ~       ~

Dean sat dismayed as the chanting and painting reached a crescendo, he was hoping it would take longer because he had yet to form any kind of workable plan.  
Periodically he kept looking at Sam who would shake his head like he knew Dean was asking questions he didn't have answers to.

Everyone except the younger woman was surrounding Dean and speaking haltingly in languages Dean had very little grasp on. The woman, however, turned to face Sam, holding a bowl of the blood they had been using.

She walked over to him, speaking the strange words eerily quietly, placed the bowl on the floor near his head and dipped her thumbs into it. Sam tried to inch away and shouted behind his gag, she didn't seem to notice, or didn't care, and grasped Sam's face between her palms. She pressed her thumbs into the spaces below his eyebrows and pulled them down, forcing his eyes closed and leaving a smear of blood across each eyelid.

Dean cried out, a wordless plea of frustration and horror, wondering what they were doing to Sam.

Sam's eyes sprang open as soon as her fingers left his face and he blinked up at Dean looking shocked and angry. His chest was heaving and Dean could see him clenching hard around the material in his mouth.

She turned quickly, smoothly, picked up a small jar before turning back to Sam and smearing something powdery black across the sticky blood coating his eyes.

After that was done she turned and nodded at her companions, the chanting stopped and they looked grimly at each other.  
The pause stretched on for a full minute before the older man spoke  
“No point standing around, this won't get any easier the longer we wait.”

They all looked at their shoes or the walls, anywhere but at Sam or Dean.

Cowards Dean thought bitterly.

There was a shuffling and clearing of throats and the young, but not possessed man, stepped forward, picking his way towards the centre of the circle and Dean.  
“Come on then, Shelley.”

The blonde woman turned to Dean then but instead of picking up the jar of blood again she opened a small metal tin and brought out an eye dropper. The man reached Dean and took a firm hold of his hair, wrenching his head back and to one side.

It pulled Dean off balance and he swore a muffled fuck you at the guy as the strain of the new position made the cuffs around his ankles bite deeply into his skin.

The blonde woman, Shelley, came to a halt in front of Dean, one foot between his knees, and leaned over to hold the dropper over his face.  
The guy with his hand in Dean’s hair used his other hand to pull down the lower eyelid of Dean's right eye.

Dean smelled menthol and felt hot splashes of liquid drop into his eye. It stung immediately and he sucked in a sharp breath, clenching his teeth. They moved to his left eye and did the same and it **_burned_**.  
Dean blinked rapidly but it didn't help and he thought they would let go of him then but they didn't, the pull on his hair changed and forced him to follow it until his face was angled level with the floor.

A copper bowl, blurry through Dean's streaming eyes, was held under his face and his tears dripped directly into it.

Minutes passed as Dean's eyes poured salty liquid and he grunted through the harsh pull on his hair and the strain in his body at leaning forward with his arms tied above his head. He felt vulnerable being made to cry in front of strangers, even artificially, and that made him angry but it felt far away. With the stressed position he was forced into and the streaming tears starting to block his nose, and the gag partially obstructing his mouth, he couldn't think much beyond dragging in air and wondering what a mess he must look like.

“We need more.”

“Screw you!” Dean shouted back and it sounded pretty clear despite his gag.

They pulled his head back again, repeated the process and held him back over the bowl.

     ~       ~        ~

Sam yelled again, and it didn't sound loud but it felt good, as they hauled Dean over the bowl a second time. He could see how much of a struggle it was for Dean to breathe like that and he was fuming, his fisted hands curled tighter until his fingernails dug into his palm by the time they released Dean and he slumped back against the pole again.

There was a lot of talking all at once and a collective checking of bits of scribbled paper, Sam couldn't keep track of everything that was said but watched carefully once things were decided.  
They moved all at once, and picked their way carefully, each to different symbols, Shelley walked to each of them and they dipped a paintbrush into the bowl of Dean's tears, and conferred and double checked, and slowly painted over some of the symbols with brushes laden with tears.

Six repainted symbols later and the flames on the candles burned higher and the circle glowed brightly for a few seconds with light and heat.

Sam had kept trying to work at the ropes holding him but hadn't found any loose points. He figured he was safe, that their attention was focused on Dean and the ritual for now, but looked up to see Shelley walking towards him with the bowl in her hands and the demon, Eli, close behind holding a knife.

The demon possessed man reached Sam and pushed him onto his back, crushing his hands underneath him. Eli flashed him a cruel smirk of a smile and quietly said “Hold still.”.

Sam held his breath as the knife was brought down and sliced his shirts open from the neck down almost to his naval. The demon grasped hold of each half of the tattered shirts and pulled them open exposing Sam's chest to the cool air.

Sam was aware of Dean shouting but couldn't see past either of the people now crouching in front of him. Shelley dipped her fingers into the bowl of Dean's tears and swiped her fingertips over Sam's forehead and then down the centre of his chest from his breastbone to his fifth rib.

It was cold and it tingled lightly which didn't feel right to Sam, he laid there incredibly aware of having his brothers tears on his skin, of how wrong this whole situation felt. He tried to closed his eyes briefly and his eyelids stuck together slightly from the drying blood and charcoal powder smeared across them.

It was wrong. It was all so wrong.

Since the sigil had been completed and the chanting ended and the blood painted over his eyes Sam had felt something sickening in his stomach. Something was very off here, and it wasn't just waking tied up in a cold basement or the odd assortment of smells, or the people whose names he didn't know, he could feel something at work, something malicious, and now it felt like it was crawling on his skin.

    ~       ~       ~

Dean slumped back against the pole letting it take most of his weight. They weren't hurting Sam, at least not yet, and he just needed to breathe.

His nose had run because of the tears and the gag between his teeth was soaked in patches. Everything ached and the cuffs were cutting into his ankles from his own weight bearing down on them.

The heat that had radiated off the painted sigils still felt like it was clinging around in the air, but the room was quiet apart from the huff of seven people's breath.

Dean didn't like the quiet. He didn't like how sinister it felt, waiting for whatever they had lined up next. And his muscles trembled with the strain placed on him, exhausted. And he couldn't be exhausted because he had to fight, had to get him and Sammy out of this. Space and quiet gave him a reminder that he didn't have a way out, he couldn't force his way out of these chains and you couldn't punch a sigil in the face.

He sniffled and breathed and looked steadily at Sam until Sam looked back at him. Dean nodded at his brother and Sam nodded back.

_I'm alright_

_You're alright_

_They haven't got us yet_

 

Shelley was looking uneasily at Eli has he held out a shining, short handled knife to her.

“Can't you…?” she asked.

“Will it work if I do it?”

“It doesn't say anywhere that is has to be the caster who does it.”

Eli flashed a grin.

“Alright then. Just be ready.”

They walked towards him and Dean growled out a low note, muscles tensed, his stomach spasmed with nerves.  
“Don't.” muffled but still there, still an objection and he had to object, wouldn't give them easily what they wanted to take.

Eli walked up to him and laid the tip of the knife to Dean's chest. Dean looked up at him through hooded eyes, feeling about as far from confident as you could get but not wanting it to show. If this was going to be his end he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him defeated.

“Wait!” the other younger man spoke quickly “Not there, I need him...it'll be easier for the next part if he's not hurt there.”

Dean furrowed his brows and tried to see around Eli to the other guy. The next part? They weren't just going to bleed him dry?

Eli huffed out an exasperated sound and moved the blade to the soft fleshy skin above Deans exposed right armpit.

And then he sliced.  
Dean gasped out a small yelp of pain. Clenched his eyes shut as he felt the blood run in rivulets down his side.

He flinched again as something cold touched his skin below the cut and opened his eyes to find Shelley holding another, flatter, bowl there to catch the blood.

Right, of course. They were just doing the same routine again.

    ~       ~       ~

Sam forgot to breathe for a good long minute after the knife touched Dean's chest. Even after all Eli did was slice a long but shallow looking cut up Dean's arm Sam still felt dizzy.

He watched as they all dipped more brushes into Deans blood and painted the sigils a third time.

The heat and light that emanated from the floor was more intense the second time round and Sam desperately sucked air through his nose as it felt like the oxygen in the room depleted for a few seconds.

Shelley turned to him again still holding her precious bowl and Sam panicked. This was moving too fast, he didn't have a grasp on what exactly was happening but he knew something definitely was. He could feel it, and as much as he hoped he was just overthinking it and nothing these people did had any real merit, they were never that lucky.

He tried to form words, tried to relay that they were messing with forces none of them seemed to comprehend and when that didn't work he tried to just roll away, even knowing he had nowhere to go.

Shelley waited as the young guy rolled Sam easily back around and Sam caught Dean's eye over the top of their heads. Dean looked worried, but dazed too. Sam couldn't imagine being at the centre of that light and heat, especially in the condition Dean was in, contorted and bloody and abused.

Sam let his head fall back to the floor, for the first time since the ritual started, trying to hold it up to see the room felt pointless. There was nothing to see here that could help him.

Deans blood was still warm as it was wiped over his forehead and chest and this time it prickled. He groaned and closed his eyes. He knew then that this definitely was real magic, blood should not prickle. This was an actual ritual, he just wished he knew what it would really do.

Sam didn't open his eyes again until someone started speaking. It was the older woman and Sam had started to wonder if this was all her doing, she was being mother hen to the rest of them and encouraging them along and he felt his anger zero in on her, something concrete to direct his hate towards.

She was stood to the side of the room, near the edge of the circle and addressed Dean.

“This next part will be the most uncomfortable.” Dean produced a strangled sort of coughing laugh and shook his head.

“But this is Julian.” she gestured to the young man who'd gagged both him and Dean and held Dean steady while they had forced the drops into his eyes. “And apparently he's very good at what he does and he's going to help you through it.”

“Wha ‘oes he do?” Dean asked. Sam noticed he'd gone very still.

“I'm a lover, the very good kind. This isn't my usual gig though. Even with the…” he gestured broadly at Sam and Dean “...bondage.”

Dean looked incredulously at Sam and then started yelling a string of words, only half of which Sam could make out, while Sam felt like he was spinning.

Tears.

Blood.

_Sweat?_

That was the saying right? Blood, sweat and tears. The three things you needed to put into something to have really worked hard at it. Could they be counted as “life force”?

The first two maybe. But sweat? Sweat wasn't really an essential part of life or, well, of anything.

But what else could it be, what else counted as a person's life force?

His brain brought up the answer and for a second it seemed too ridiculous to be true, and Sam felt a strange laugh wanting to bubble up out of his throat. And then he realised that it could be true, it would make sense, and his mind rebelled at the idea so utterly that he retched, felt like he was choking around the gag.

He looked in horror at Dean who was struggling uselessly on his knees and pulling at his chains.

Sam fears were confirmed as Julian said “We need to get his pants off.”

    ~       ~       ~

Dean had never felt so helplessly, uselessly pinned in all his life. He'd also never felt a point in his life before where he simultaneously wanted to fight and rage and shout expletives until his voice cracked, but also curl up and draw as little attention to himself as possible.

Not knowing which option to pick he knelt there stock still, breathing harshly, a small panicked noise escaping every few exhales.

His eyes found Sam, yelling and trying to shuffle forwards, eyes round and fixed steadily on Dean.

Dean couldn't fathom this. He couldn't. Not with Sam here, not at all.

He felt hands closing around his elbows and tugging on the chain around his wrists, and one grabbing a fistful of hair, and they pulled and Dean yelled and resisted but after a paltry few seconds they dragged him upwards to balance precariously up on his knees.

He didn't have time to adjust his weight and was leaning backwards slightly with his hips canted forwards, the cold metal of the pole digging between his shoulder blades. Julian appeared in front of him, all dark hair and dark eyes, looking determined.

He half smiled at Dean like he was apologising but then went right ahead and undid Deans belt, and fly, and then pushed Dean jeans and boxers down as far as they would go.

The hands holding Dean up gently released him and guided him back down until his knees were bent again. Dean's mind had stuttered to a halt as his clothes had settled around his lower thighs and the cold air of the room touched his now exposed cock and balls, but everything came crashing in on him as he was settled back on his knees.

The uncomfortable squash of his jeans and belt pushing into his thighs, and the way it reduced his movement even more, trapping his knees into place, pulled everything into sharp focus.

This was real. This was happening.

He looked down at his bunched up clothes and his cock lying soft above them. He couldn't get it up like this. He wouldn't. His entire body was a dull, fiery ache of pain and there was still blood oozing slowly down his right side and he couldn't breathe clearly. But more than all that he didn't want to. And that had to count for something, didn't it?

He looked up at Julian, he was still crouching right in front of him, and tried to think of something to say, coming up short Dean bit down on the gag between his teeth instead.

Julian noticed and frowned.

“Want me to take that out? Will it help?”

Dean had no fucking idea what would help, and he didn't want help like this, so he shrugged, as much as his chained arms would allow.

Julian reached out and his fingertips lightly brushed Dean's cheek. Dean tried to inch away but he had no room to work with. Julian reached around, loosened the knot at the back of Dean's head and pulled the gag free.He leaned in close, and spoke softly enough that no-one else would hear them talk.

“What about a blindfold? Sometimes that makes things easier.”

“No! No.” Dean growled out, mouth dry, voice hoarse. He wondered distantly if he were dehydrated what with the drugs and the crying and the blood loss.

“Don't. You don't have to do what they say. How do you even know this will work, that it does what they say it will?”

“Ordinarily I never would. I swear. Rape? That's not...it's not okay, I know. But the apocalypse? That has to be - if I can help stop that, it has to be the right thing.”

He paused.

“I am sorry though. Try, please try, just think of something good. I'm going to make you feel good, I promise.”

Julian settled his hands on Dean's hips and Dean flinched and tried to buck him away. They were warm and soft and Dean didn't want to notice that but he did.

Sam screamed and must have really been putting his heart into it for it to sound that loud through the gag in his mouth. Dean looked over to see him looking stricken and agitated.

“Sammy. Don't. Don't watch, please man, don't make this worse.”

Sam deflated but shook his head. Dean was immediately aware of the other people standing awkwardly around and felt himself blush for the first time, he'd been too shocked before but now…

“What, are you freaks gonna all get off on this too?”

Julian had the decency to look ashamed and turned to his companions.  
“Step back, you need to step back all of you. Shelley I know you have to be ready, but everyone else…”

“What if?”

“You'll be right there, if we need anything you'll know.” Shelley said.

Dean watched the older couple walk away towards the stairs and turn their backs. He couldn't see the demon, Eli, so he must have moved behind Dean, but any illusion of privacy was better than what he'd had a minute ago.

Sam hadn't shut his eyes but he wasn't staring anymore either, his gaze flicking back and forth around the room, looking a little frantic, if Dean was honest. It made Dean want to laugh, that Sam was more panicked than he was. Dean just felt exhausted, resigned, he wanted to hold on to his anger but it seemed to be slipping away. As the reality of what was about to happen seeped in he felt himself detaching and growing numb.

Julian moved in and placed his hands on Dean's waist again and Dean glared daggers at him.

Dean hadn't had much chance for pleasure since returning from hell and here he was, again, with the choice taken away. He didn't even feel surprised that it had happened, like he'd always known somewhere deep down that this was where he would end up again.

Julian ran his hands up and around Dean's chest and ribs, stroking gently, and then pressing the tips of his fingers into the dip of his collar bone, between his clavicles, trailed down his torso and along his iliac crest. Roved around the curve of Dean's hips, reached behind to tumble back up over the crest of his ass.

This was different than hell, Dean was aware of that. No matter how painful things in hell had been there was an immediacy to having a real, physical body that was currently being exploited, that made the memories seem distant and fuzzy. But Dean did recall that it had been the same pattern with Alistair, no matter the previous hurts, the one currently being experienced always burned brighter. Realising that, that it was usual somehow to hate the thing happening to you right now the most, despite the past, made Dean relax a bit. Things made sense at least and he wasn't weak for hating what was happening right now.

Julian’s hands picked up speed and deepened in pressure, tracing warm tingles along Dean's skin and Dean’s blood seemed to lurch towards his cock, filling it slightly. Relaxing even a little, Dean realised, was the wrong move because Julian noticed and praised him, told him he was doing good and _see this can be easy_ as he moved a hand to Dean's hair, grabbing and pulling his head to one side to mouth at his neck.

Dean saw Sam wide eyed on the floor and balked, grunted, tried to buck Julian off. His hands felt useless chained above his head and he clawed at the pole trying to find purchase, something to grasp to help him move away.

“Fuck you! Just get on with it already.” Although that wasn't what he wanted, they needed time, a last minute miracle to get them out of this. But he didn't want to be toyed with either and he wasn't going to pretend he was enjoying it.

“Easy, love. Don't you want to feel good?” Julian mouthed against Dean's throat and then his lips.

Dean realised he was falling into his work, treating Dean well, as though this wasn't being forced on him. Dean moved in a flash and snapped his teeth at Julian’s lips as they were ghosting near his.

He got a yelp in surprise and Julian moved his face away, but his hands pressed down on Dean’s hips, holding him still.

“Do we need to gag him again?” came a voice from somewhere behind Dean.

“No, it's fine. My fault.”

The man in front of Dean looked steadily into Dean's eyes, looking concerned. Dean narrowed his eyes and rested his head against the pole at his back.

“Your move, Romeo.”

Julian let his hands trail down Dean's thighs, and Dean felt his heartbeat pick up speed.

“Alright then, we'll just get right to it.”

Julian ran his fingers over Dean's cock. Too light to even be called a caress, let alone a stroke. Dean watched it happen in a detached sort of way, trying to comprehend what was coming. Someone else was touching his dick, was going to do more than that, and Dean had no way of stopping it.

Taking Dean's limp cock in hand, Julian ran his fingers over it, seemingly without a plan in mind, just familiarizing himself with the length, rubbing circles over the head.

Dean sucked in a breath as a thumb moved over his slit. Julian must have seen what it did to Dean because he did it twice more, forcing Dean to bite his tongue to keep silent.

A second hand joined in, rolling Dean's balls and Dean hadn't realised he'd squeezed his eyes shut until there was a squeeze elsewhere and his eyes flew open.

“Thinking of something nice there?” it was said with a smirk.

“I'm gonna kill you, you son of a bitch.”

“Whatever thought gets you through it sweetheart.” Julian chuckled.

And then he began to move his hands in earnest, pumping up Dean's length, alternating softer strokes with firmer pressure, sometimes a squeeze at the base, sometimes a twist over the head. No pattern that Dean could pick out so he couldn't anticipate what was coming, and it wasn't more than a handful of minutes before his cock went from slightly filled to half way hard and twitching.

Dean tried to remind himself to breathe, slow and steady, refusing as much as possible to get taken over with the sensations running through the lower half if his body. He was furious with himself when he felt his cock harden under Julian’s swift hands.  
Dean hated giving them what they wanted, hated that his body would respond without his say so, even though he'd known it would happen eventually. He pulled his arms forward slowly until the chain stopped short against the pole, and then he pulled more until the handcuffs dug into his wrists.

Dean smothered a smile as his plan worked, the pain overriding his brain long enough for his cock to soften a fraction despite Julian’s continued assault.  
It wouldn't work forever but he had to try.

    ~       ~       ~

Sam watched, horrified, as Julian put his hands on his older brother.

Couldn't give Dean what he wanted when he asked Sam to look away.

Wanted to keep yelling until someone in the room stopped this and untied them both.

Didn't think he'd ever be able to unhear the sounds of someone trying to give his brother a handjob seven feet away while he laid there bound and silent.

His eyes flicked around the room. It was so sunny still, Sam could see the light dappling on the floor as if filtered through leaves.

There were trees out there, a world out there, it was only for Sam and Dean that everything had narrowed to this one room, this one course of events.

The thought, the memory of the small town they had travelled to, of people still out there living lives going and about their days, barrelled into Sam's mind and steam rolled everything else. It pulled him out, detached him from any further thought, because it made all this seem at once more solid and more surreal.

It shouldn't happen like this, in the middle of the day with the sun shining and the world awake. Dark rituals and bloody sigils and physical assault should belong to the realm of evenings and nights, in shadowed alleys and black rooms.

This was wrong, worse somehow because it felt jarring in the stark light of midday.

Sam was fully caught up in his own spiralling thoughts and so he barely noticed the trick that Dean pulled.

He thought he saw something change in Dean's demeanor though so he watched for it again, and sure enough as Julian’s efforts filled out Dean's cock Dean moved gently and Sam saw him clench his jaw in pain, and then his cock soften a fraction again.

Of course Dean would try and fight back any way he could. Sam had no way of knowing if it was just out of spite or if Dean could feel the weird twisting thing that Sam could, if Dean could tell the ritual was doing something.

Sam shifted his weight, his left shoulder feeling numb and sore. He thought he saw Dean's eyes on him for a few seconds as he wriggled and huffed at his bonds, but when he really looked Dean was staring at the ceiling.

But Eli was looking, Sam could see him standing behind Dean his gaze flicking between the two of them. Sam froze as Eli walked forward and roughly took hold of Dean's elbow, pulling until Dean relented with a yelp. It forced Dean's hands and wrists away from the pole, and with his other hand Eli held the cuffs steady between Dean's wrists so they couldn't pull at all, and that was the end of that plan.

    ~       ~       ~

Dean was dismayed at finding himself completely out of options, delaying the inevitable was all he'd had left.

Julian was still moving his hands, a steady rhythm, up, down, press, release.

Feeling a second pair of hands on him and knowing there was another pair of eyes, demon eyes, watching shocked him too. It felt immediately less private, the forced participation, the unwanted touches, all blurring into one big word in his mind.

But Dean's body reacted to his increase in heart rate and blood flow in all the wrong ways. He felt the beginnings of heat forming in his belly, sweat breaking across his skin, muscles trembling in his thighs.

“No.” it wasn't loud, it wasn't elegant, it just was. Dean let his head hang forward and closed his eyes and repeated it over and over barely more than a whisper. “No no no no no…” until he was only forming the word without sound.

Julian leaned down and shushed him, startled Dean with a row of soft kisses across his hips and around his belly button, leading down to his groin. While his hands worked steadily, moving quicker but softly, the friction near constant but feather light.

And just like that his cock bobbed up to his stomach, filling the place where Julian’s mouth had been.

Through slitted eyes Dean saw drips of precome form and roll down the head. And then Julian’s hands came into view, ran up his length one after the other and any focused thoughts Dean had left floated away.

Dean was utterly over stimulated, the ache in his legs, the pull on his arms, the leaking tears still pooling the edges of his vision. Fizz and heat and clenching pressure building through his stomach and moving with his pulse to his cock.

He focused on anything else, everything else. Solid push of his knees on the floor, breath filling his lungs in gasps, light flickering on the floor, Sam right there. Sam.

_Sammy._

**No.**

His erection flagged and the warmth receded, and he had enough space to think, to wonder if he'd found the right formula to fight this.

And then tight, wet heat enclosed his cock and he gasped and groaned, looked down to find Julian’s mouth stretched around his cock, his eyes tilted up to Dean. Julian shook his head as if saying _you don't get away that easily_.

Dean shuddered through agonisingly intense sensations, heat and sucking and the barest hint of teeth.

Short sounds escaped his lips, matching in time with the way Julian was swallowing down Dean's cock, humming little vibrations along the length.

But he refused he _couldn't_ , he would hold back, hold on.

“Too long.” a short sharp voice behind him.

A hand closed around his mouth, forcing his jaw shut and fingers pinched his nose.

Dean bucked and he twisted and the twisting increased pressure on his cock. He tried to force his lungs to expand, to pull in air but there wasn't room, there wasn't any give.

His stomach tightened as his lungs failed to contract. His hands twitched and his feet spasmed and Julian was still moving and licking, swirling wetness around the length of his cock.

Just as Dean's vision began to darken, his balls contracted and everything pulsed, the heat, the mouth, around his cock disappeared and Dean came in harsh violent spurts.

It wasn't pleasure, not really, just a sharp release, a shuddering of muscles. The hand holding his jaw let go with a jerk and from far away Dean heard himself gasp for oxygen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote a (very non-con obviously) sex scene. I hope it's good and not just a bunch of nonsense words, I've looked at it so long now it's hard to tell one way or the other.
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated. More than happy to discuss anything you like!


	3. Chapter 3

Sam wasn't sure if he was actually shouting or if he only felt like he should be. He was sure, he was _so sure_ that they were killing Dean, they were forcing an orgasm out of him at the expense of his life.

Dean's come plastered itself up his stomach and chest and Shelley moved swiftly to catch the last jets on a platter, and Eli unceremoniously dropped his hands from Dean's face. He slumped down, swaying, but his chest heaved over and over so Sam knew he was with him still.

Sam felt tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and formed Dean's name in his mind willing him to look up. Dean stayed exactly where he'd been left, a broken doll, only upright because he was pinned there.

Shelley and Julian were scooping come from Dean's chest and depositing it onto the platter and Sam watched as they thinned it with some water and painted a sticky coating over as much of the six sigils as they could. They all stepped back as the last brushstrokes were painted over the sixth rune, there was no blast of heat this time but the entire circle lit up, glowing faintly and it didn't stop like it had before. The temperature in the room increased and Sam felt sweaty in seconds.

He knew they were coming for him next and Sam hated them for it. He didn't want to be connected in any way to Dean's abuse, he didn't want it on his skin or made part of his being.

Sam ground his bones together and bucked wildly in an effort to find any slack in his ropes. Firm grips on his shoulders and wrapping around his legs stopped him, held him steady, older hands and muscles out-matching bound up youth.  
Shelley spoke old slow words in front of him again and wiped drying, cooling come from his hairline down between his eyes. As her fingers touched again to the top of his chest, Sam felt it searing him and he screamed. It burned like fire across his forehead and the swipe of her fingers down his chest took an eternity, dragging sizzling pain behind them.

The pain disappeared like the snuffing of a flame as soon as Shelley's fingers left his skin. Sam came back to himself with his head thrown back, body feeling heavy with strain and fatigue.

Dean was staring at him, all clammy skin and tired eyes. Sam held his gaze as strong arms rolled him onto his stomach and lifted him from the armpits, half dragging, half carrying him to the edge of the circle. They pushed his knees under him and he found himself eye level with Dean, the top half of his body angled over the ring of bloody shining symbols.

Someone pulled his collar out of the way and Sam felt a cool blade find its way to his jugular vein.

“Wait.” Dean rasped. “Let me talk to him. Let me speak to my brother a minute...You owe us that.” he added when no-one moved and nothing changed.

Sam hung his head and watched the hand holding the knife lower. He forced his head back up to meet Dean's eyes.

“Hey Sammy.” a smile, the familiar smile in Dean's voice as he said it. It was grounding and softening and Sam nodded his acknowledgement of it. He wanted to say Dean's name too but his mouth was still full, still gagged.

“Guess we found our end, huh? Maybe we deserve it, after everything. Maybe these fuckers are right though, maybe it will fix everything like this, you think?”

Sam didn't know. He tried to shrug but didn't know if it came off, so nodded and shook his head one after the other.

“Yeah I'm not so sure either.” Dean's eyes flickered up behind to something Sam couldn't see and his face grew harsh and angry.

“I’ll see you on the other side. You hear me, Sam?” he asked sounding desperate and Sam nodded and groaned back his name as best he could.

The blade touched his neck again and there was a pinch and a bright burst of light, intense and searing Sam's eyes. He squeezed them shut and felt himself hit the ground hard, winded and bruised.

As the whiteness receded Sam cracked an eye open, his ears were ringing from the way his body had hit the ground hard - but he didn't feel dead. He noticed movement, scuffling and shouting and it felt like it was swirling around him, around the entire room.

“Sam. _Sam!_ ”

Dean's voice. That was Dean's voice. Sam swung his head up to look at him, a strange surge of horrified laughter finding its way out when he had to look up past Dean's cock and his bare chest to find his face.

“Sam the blood, you're bleeding you have to move! Get out of the circle, now!”

Blood? Right yes, the knife, he was bleeding. The ritual. He could feel a slow trickle running across his bared neck, running downwards as he was angled to the floor. It struck Sam in a rush that the blood, his blood, was the final part of the spell work.

He felt wild with the urge to hurry, desperate to thrash away, didn't want to die, didn't want it to kill Dean, but he pushed the urge down and methodically hauled himself up, holding his head aloft so the blood would pool down his chest and not drip to the floor. Inch by inch Sam struggled over the line that marked the edge of circle.

   ~         ~          ~

Dean hung his head back as Sam slumped to the floor on the far side of the sigils, finally hanging limp in his chains, all fight worn out of him.

The familiar brightness of angel power had startled him, at first thinking it was the ritual taking effect, then presuming it was some winged dick arriving to watch the Winchester’s downfall.

But then he’d seen Cas swiping away the blade Eli was holding to Sam's neck and Uriel overpowering Shelley who had rushed forward to help Eli. And then there was chaos as the others tried to run and Sam fell, and Dean knew it was over, Cas would stop it, they were saved.

The four humans were now lain strewn around the room, dead or unconscious Dean couldn't tell, and the demon was thrashing, arms pinned, in Uriel’s grip. Cas walked around the room pressing his hand to each person's head.

“Are they dead?” Dean choked out.

“No, only unconscious. I'm removing any memory of these events from their minds.” Cas answered and then rounded on Eli. “Who else knows about this?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.” he spat back.

“Yes, and we will. I assume you can handle the rest from here?” Uriel asked, giving Cas a pointed look.

“Yes I can finish up here.” Cas answered, glancing awkwardly at Dean as he said it.

In a flutter of invisible wings Uriel disappeared, taking the demon with him.

Cas walked to Sam, hauling him up upright and pushing him to rest against the wall to Dean's right, he tapped Sam’s forehead with his fingers and Dean watched his muscles unclench and the dried blood and mess disappear from his head and chest. Cas leaned to reach around Sam's face, untying the material, and then helped ease the gag from Sam's mouth.

Sam rolled his jaw and said thank you in a raspy voice before twisting to offer Cas his bound hands, but Cas turned away again. That left Dean a little stunned, Cas was usually at least slightly better than this at noticing when they required assistance. He picked his way across the circle to Dean and tapped his forehead, the cut on Dean's arm disappeared along with all his bodily aches and strained muscles, as if they'd never existed.  
Cas walked away again without offering to free Dean from his restraints, and Dean got a sinking feeling in his stomach that there was something going on here that they didn't know.

Cas was moving the sleeping bodies into a row in the corner nearest the stairs and Dean attempted to get his attention back.  
“Cas, how did you know where to find us? Who are these people?” He felt as though he had a million more questions, not least, why Cas wasn't releasing either of them.

Cas replied but it wasn't quite the information Dean was hoping for.

“I will be sending them home. They won't remember this and you shouldn't look for them, essentially they are innocent now.”

“Okay, but -”

“They also won't be able retain any information about you, or this type of magic, in the future. It shouldn't be a danger again, and heaven is working on eliminating the threat that started this.”

“That threat being…?” Sam chimed in.

“There is an ancient deity, Tir, that got wind of current world events and decided it was in their best interests to put a stop to it. In Armenian culture he was known as the god of knowledge, similar myths to Apollo in Greek lore.”

Dean saw Sam nod like this made sense, Dean was still bending his mind around the words deity and god being used in a conversation pertinent to his and Sam's life.

“That demon was recruited by Tir and his followers, believing they'd be heavily rewarded for doing the dirty work.”

“And the people? How does someone get involved in this crap if they're not hunters or creatures?” Dean asked.

Cas sighed “There is a lot to explain.”

“Can you start with what you meant by ‘finishing up’?” Sam said quietly.

“Yeah and Cas, could you?” Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded down at himself.  
Cas looked confused.  
“Come on, I'm kinda hanging in the wind here, are you gonna untie us anytime soon or were you just planning on standing there?”

“I'm afraid I can't. Yet. And to answer Sam's question, we need to undo what was done here, it's too potent to leave unfinished. You can't leave until it's done.”

“Okay, so I won't leave but you can still untie me and let pull my pants up!”

Cas sounded agitated when he said  
“No, you don't understand, I have to reverse the ritual, it's the only way to end this safely. I think you'll need to, how did you put it? Keep “hanging in the wind” for that.”

Dean turned beet red, it burned swiftly up his chest and he felt a little like his lungs were constricting.

“No, no way, I'm not doing this again -”  
“ - Cas there has to be a different way, can't we just-” Sam spoke at the same time Dean did, and Cas cut them both off with a glare.

“Do you really think there's a different way Sam? Or would you like to risk both your lives for some modesty, Dean?”

Dean spluttered and looked at Sam who was sat mouth agape and embarrassed too.

Cas sighed and took a step forward “You don't have to do anything, but you do have to let me do it, **choose** to let me, to reverse this effectively it has to be given freely. I thought perhaps it would be easiest for me to assist you in completing it, and that being restrained would make it easier for you both to let me. Am I wrong?”

Dean really didn't know what to think. He was certainly less uncomfortable since Cas had healed him so staying put a while longer wasn't as awful as it could have been, on the other hand if Cas would just untie him he could surely do the whole thing himself without the need for Cas to...do anything.

“Would you like to complete the reversal before I tell you what I can?”

He looked at Sam who was squirming and trying to wrench himself free again and he shrugged when Dean caught his eye.  
Dean looked down at himself and caught sight of his flaccid cock.

“I don't think I can.” he said quietly.

“Dean-”

“No Cas, I mean I don't think I physically can, alright! I'm not a machine here, I'm gonna need some time before...until I can…” he waved his shackled hand hoping to convey his meaning and looked to Sam for some help explaining the intricacies of erection physiology to a damn angel.

Sam suppressed a smile “Cas, um, what Dean means is that, his body won't work again...uh like it needs to? Not yet.”

Cas squinted and looked unabashedly at Dean's naked body which made Dean squirm, his cuffs rattled and Dean closed his eyes because this just could not be happening, his life could not be this insane that he was handcuffed to a pole and considering asking an angel to help jerk him off.

“You won't be able to ejaculate again so soon after the last time?”

“No. I mean don't get me wrong, I can satisfy a woman all night - “

“Dean!”

“ _Shut up_ Sam! But you've gotta build back up to it y'know.”

“I have healed you, that won't be sufficient?”

The flush across Dean's face grew even deeper, because how was this a conversation they were actually having?

“I don't know, I can't - you'd know better than me!” he said trying to retain some dignity.

“Well,” Cas squared his shoulders “I can help in either case.”

Cas walked carefully across the painted runes and sigils and came to a stop crouched before Dean. His voice seemed especially low when he said “I gather this isn't the usual way of things, you humans have a lot of social rituals about this, they're very confusing.”

“There’s an understatement.” Dean managed to say back. Cas was very close right now, it reminded Dean how exposed he was, it made it hard to think clearly.

“I hear there is normally kissing.”

Dean blinked, stunned. He tried to shuffle his knees and realised he couldn't, his jeans still wrapped around them, was trying to think of something to say back to that when Cas leaned in and appeared half an inch from his face, still open eyed, one hand resting on the floor right beside to Dean’s hip, Cas's forearm resting against Dean’s exposed thigh .

Dean glanced at Sam who stared back, incredulous, and then Dean's vision was blocked completely by Cas moving and pressing his lips firmly against Dean's.

Cas didn't do anything at all but didn't move away again either, just sat with his mouth pressed into a line against Dean’s. Dean sighed inwardly and closed his eyes, and with his eyes closed it wasn't horrible, certainly nicer than Julian and his unwanted roving hands. Dean decided to make the best of it.

He experimented, parting his lips and pushing his tongue lightly against Cas's mouth. Cas relented, softening, allowing the press of Dean's tongue between his lips and then past his teeth. Not kissing back, not moving at all, just letting Dean do...whatever. And Dean settled into it. Kissing he knew, kissing he could do, although usually the other person did kiss you back. He wasn't used to kissing men, let alone an angel of the Lord walking around in a man's meat suit, but a kiss was a kiss.

It was a nice distraction from an incredibly uncomfortable situation, and Dean almost didn't notice Cas's other hand gently, lightly, coming to rest on his stomach.

Didn't think much of it when that hand moved a little lower, stopping over the hollow between his hip bones.

Was only slightly surprised to find himself aroused out of all proportion for the current situation.

Gasped and groaned loudly as heat built through his belly and his cock grew and bobbed to attention at a speed so far unheard of in his life.

Shuddered and shook as he found himself enduring an orgasm beyond the intensity of anything he'd ever felt.

Knelt in exactly the same spot he'd been trapped in for hours feeling like he'd escaped to another plane of existence. He knew, had to know, that barely any time had passed, but he felt spent and rejuvenated in equal measure and would have quite happily stayed behind the dark of his eyelids until the world ended.

The clearing of a throat brought Dean back to the present with a jolt and he cracked his eyes open to find Sam smirking at him from across the room. Cas was scooping come off Dean's chest in a clinical fashion, as though the fact that he'd just given Dean sexual pleasure while he was shackled to a pole in a basement was any old ordinary way to spend an afternoon.

“You whammied me!” Dean wasn't sure why he felt a little outraged about it.

Cas considered him but didn't say anything.

“You...you used freaky angel powers to do that, right?”

“I moved the process along yes, it seemed a waste of time to let things run their natural course.” He paused.  
“Is that not how things usually go? I wasn't sure of the intensity required. You produced a significant amount of semen, is that a good sign?”

Sam laughed, wild and loud and Dean spluttered and most definitely did not want to be naked any longer.

“It looked like you gave him plenty of intensity from over here Cas. I'm sure Dean is very grateful.” Sam said with tears of laughter running down his cheeks.

“You, shut it! I'm not even, I don't...can we just get this done already?”

    ~          ~           ~

Sam didn't mean to laugh at Dean, because he honestly didn't envy the predicament he was in. Cas might have said Dean had to be willing but it wasn't like he had much of a choice. Dean's face was just such a picture of outrage and mortification and Cas was so clueless that he couldn't help it.

Cas had a handful of Dean’s come held in his scooped hand as he turned back to Sam, and Sam sobered up straight away because his part of the deal was up next.

“I can tell you which symbols they painted over, if you need me to, I was watching.” he said, helping, being clinical about it, that was the way to go.

“Thank you Sam. Your involvement needs to come next, and then the sigils, for the reverse order.”

Sam nodded and looked at Cas's hand.

“Do you know what they did, to me?”

“Yes. But,” and Cas, Cas of all beings, looked embarrassed “for it to be most effective you would need to ingest it.”

Sam was fairly sure he couldn't have heard correctly.

The room tilted, or maybe it was just Sam, because however dismayed and violated Sam had felt at being wiped down with Dean's bodily fluids, ingesting them would be worse.

“I realise this is not within your social norms.”

Dean snorted loudly and Sam cut a him look that he hoped conveyed his exasperation.

“Are you sure, it's not what they did before?” Sam asked knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

“I know. I already removed the previous traces from your skin when I healed you. Getting rid of them was part of starting the reversal. I could put this back in the same places but I'm not sure it would work, it may not count as a large enough change. Intent matters in a binding ritual like this, for it to be different - from your perspective, to show you are willing and to make sure it's fully absorbed - ingestion would be the most helpful.”

Sam nodded. He looked at Dean, still bound, still naked, bedraggled and tired, and knew he'd do whatever it took to get this over with. This was the least Sam could do.

“Okay.”

Cas was next to him in a stunningly short amount of seconds and Sam dutifully opened his mouth. Cas's plan to keep them tied up while they completed this seemed immediately a brilliant idea because Sam had a sneaking suspicion that with the use of his arms and legs he'd have batted Cas's hand away and been halfway across the room by now.

Cas dipped two fingers into the deposit in his hand and wiped them over Sam's tongue, scraping behind his bottom teeth to keep it in his mouth. It was cold, sticky, bitter and Dean's, and Sam knew he was going to have to do some serious repression to forget this ever happened.

Sam closed his mouth and eyes at the same time, wishing the floor would open up and he could disappear.

“It would help if you swallowed.” Cas said, and this time it was Dean's turn to laugh.

    ~          ~          ~

Whatever healing mojo Cas had worked on him was wearing off and Dean was getting persistent aches in his shoulders and lower back again, pins and needles returning with a vengeance.

Dean shuffled around a little, trying to ease his limbs into a slightly different configuration as Sam directed Cas to the six important sigils, the ones they had anointed with Dean's blood, tears, and come. Cas didn't paint over them, just pressed a semen laden finger to the centre of each one and moved on.

The temperature in the room dropped again after the last one and Dean shivered a little, thought about how good pants and a shirt would feel right now.

He was just about to comment about hurrying along the proceedings when he realised Cas was behind him, without any preamble Cas snapped open the cuffs around Dean’s wrists in quick succession.

Dean made an undignified noise and fell forward, ending up on all fours, bracing his hands on the floor. He hadn't realised how much it was the chains keeping him upright until they weren't anymore.

He let himself take what felt like the first full breaths he'd been able to breathe since regaining consciousness, but then quickly hauled himself up, grabbing his boxers and jeans and covering his exposed ass. It was the most simple pleasure in the world to be wearing clothes again and Dean sat back on his heels to let his trembling arms rest loosely at his sides.

Dean found himself grinning as Cas came back into view.

“Ready for round two? I can't wait to get this show on the road.”

Cas squinted at him.

“Blood next. Will you allow me, Dean?” He asked holding his angel blade out like a peace offering.

Dean wanted to be snarky about it and tell him to just get on with it already but remembered what Cas said to Sam about intent being important. So he lowered his chin in a nod and lifted a palm up to Cas's blade.

He was expecting a cut but Cas was gentle and only pressed the very tip into Dean's outstretched middle finger. Stowing his blade back in his coat he lowered Dean's hand and squeezed repeatedly down Dean's finger, collecting a little pool of blood in his other palm.

Sam accepted the blood less hesitantly but still pulled a face as he swallowed. And Cas once again walked carefully around the painted circle, smearing drops of blood in the correct places.

As the last sigil got wiped with blood Sam shuddered and then leaned his head back against the wall with a sigh.

“Sam?” Dean questioned.

“That feels so much better.”

“What does?”

“You couldn't feel that? Ever since they started something felt off, like...like twisting or itching under my skin. I guess we know the reversal is working, if I feel better right?”

“Yes it does seem to be taking effect. Well, losing effect.” Cas interjected.

“I didn't feel any of that.” Dean admitted. “Just the heat after each piece of the ritual was done, that was intense.”

Dean let his gaze wander the room again taking in the space they'd almost died in, he was still chained around the pole by his ankles but finally considered actually walking out of here soon, there had been a long while in these past hours where he wasn't sure that would happen.

He looked down at the blood streaked lines surrounding him and was hit by a niggling feeling of guilt. Cas had saved them, the angels in general had saved them he supposed, but what was the cost?

He cleared his throat and glanced at Sam.

“Cas, would it have worked? What they were trying for, would it actually have stopped the apocalypse - prevented anymore seals from breaking?”

“No.”

Dean closed his eyes in relief.

“They were sadly misinformed. It would have destroyed both of you, beyond any repair heaven would be capable of making, but it wouldn’t have changed the outcome of the seals breaking. Their information was wrong somewhere, wires crossed, I think is the term you would use.”

So that settled it, they didn't need to feel guilty. He could drive away from here with Sammy in the passenger seat and just feel glad. Angry as all hell at the people - and powers - who'd put them through this without actually knowing what they were doing, but glad.

    ~          ~          ~

Sam shared the relief he could see on Dean's face but he knew he would have felt it no matter what Cas's answer had been. Sam was willing to risk his own life to stop the coming apocalypse but he was not ready to watch Dean die all over again, not when it could be avoided, not when there was still hope for another way.

There was just one last component needed, Dean's tears. Dean seemed to have realised this too and rolled his eyes as Cas said “Dean, you need to cry now.”

“Yeah I know. Can't exactly turn the waterworks on like a switch though.”

“Perhaps if you were to think about your time in hell.”

Dean paled but grew angry too.  
“That's not something that's going to help right now Cas!”

“It's clearly something you feel strongly about I don't see why -”

“No you wouldn't see why. So don't push it, I'll do this freely, comply, whatever you need but don't ask me to go there.”

Sam listened to them argue back and forth, getting restless, it had been too long stuck in one place, too much adrenaline, he needed to stretch and move, walk off his jitters.

After several minutes of talking in circles, no closer to a resolution, Sam couldn't sit still any longer and spoke up,  
“Cas could you untie me now? Things are getting a little sore.”

Cas moved and made short work of untying Sam's bindings without pausing in his argument with Dean. Sam slowly rolled his shoulders and rubbed feeling back into his legs. He reached a hand up ready to rub at his face but Cas snatched it back.  
“Don't rub at your eyes! The ingredients there must be the last to go.”

Sam nodded, surprised that he'd grown so used to the stickiness of his eyelids that he hadn't realised the blood was still there.

“Oh, so he gets to be untied but I have to stay shackled here? I'm not a child, I can stay where I need to stay without being forced!”

“Guys…” Sam sighed. Cas's stubbornness and Dean's temper was going to move this argument away from the subject at hand, Sam was going to have to find some middle ground for them.

Cas huffed and stepped frustratedly to the centre of the sigils, he yanked open Dean's ankle cuffs and snapped at Dean “Is that better? Can we focus now?”

Dean swayed, relief at being able to get his legs out from under him evident on his face. He stayed exactly where he was, in the centre, but with his legs stretched carefully over the floor, leaning more comfortably against the pole.

Sam had a thought, stood slowly letting his body accommodate the change in position, bracing against the wall. He scanned the items around the room, looking for what he wanted. A small gleam of silver caught his eye, the small tin Shelley had produced the eye dropper from, he stumbled over to it and found, happily, that it rattled in his hand.

“Hey guys, will this work?”

 

A short discussion later it was decided that if Dean administered the drops himself it would still count as his choice, freely given, even if the tears were produced by an outside force.  
After that Cas made quick work of letting Sam drink a small amount of tears out of his hand, and dabbing the rest of the sigils one last time.

He made Sam sit back down and close his eyes, Sam felt a light press on both eyelids and then the sticky feeling and the smell of charcoal was gone. He smiled as the last small part of ill feeling left him. Cas uttered some strange words, which Sam asked about later and Cas told him it was the same invocation Shelley had used, but spoken backwards. And then Cas scratched out sections of the lines and sigils written around Dean, speaking more quickly now, a small blast of air stuttered through the room, and it was done.

Cas helped Dean to his feet and Sam went to test the door out of the basement. He flung it open and smelled fresh air and bathed in sunlight. Smiled as Dean appeared behind him, fully healed again thanks to Cas, not even an aching muscle between them.

Now just to get out of this damn town, preferably a state or twos distance away, and the shaky part of Sam that hadn’t recovered from very nearly losing Dean, again, might start to be soothed.

     ~           ~           ~

Cas stayed behind a few moments longer, he checked his work on the minds of the people rendered unconscious, found it without fault and touched each of their chests, sending them home to sleep it off. They wouldn’t remember anything. It seemed small comfort after what they had chosen to do, but Cas had been able to convince his fellow soldiers that they didn’t need to die, that they had been coerced into this without knowing the full extent of their actions, so he couldn’t back down now.

He found Sam and Dean outside discussing the particulars of the situation, they had found Dean's discarded clothes and shoes and Sam's jacket and had redressed, looking less disheveled. They both had many questions. Cas told them what he could. That heaven had been alerted to the presence of this extreme magic once the ritual had begun, that they’d worked as fast as possible to pin down the location and work past the wardings.

That yes, there had been wardings to get past, because being a god of information Tir had known a lot about biblical incantations from spending millennia on the earth. He hadn’t wanted his reign to end, thinking the apocalypse would be the end of all information on earth. He had persuaded certain demons, case in point the one possessing Eli, that they were better off keeping the world the way it was too.

“The demon left signs here on purpose, knowing it would bring you both here. Tir thought, incorrectly, that you were the key to halting the breaking of the seals.”

“So it was a trap, especially for us? They knew about us?” Sam asked looking dismayed.

“Yes you've made some waves in supernatural circles. Your names are becoming more well known by the week.”

“And the rest of them? They're really just...people?” Dean said.

“Unfortunately they are, weak ones maybe, but people all the same. They were manipulated Dean,” Cas added at Dean's sour look. “ You know how demons lie. The old couple, Mr and Mrs Vance, own this land. This building used to be a church, the basement may be all that’s left intact but it's still holy ground which was needed for the ritual. They were chosen because of that, and they own the diner you ate in too.”

“So they got some sedative into our food and didn't let anyone else in to eat this morning.” Sam added.

“So it would appear.”

“And Shelley, and the other guy, Julian?” Dean seemed to have trouble saying his name.

“Shelley is the most powerful natural witch in four hundred miles. Born on the seventh day of the seventh month at the seventh hour, which also happened to fall on a new moon. Although she didn't know it, I doubt she'd used much magic before in her life, but they convinced her that she was capable of doing it, and apparently they were correct. Julian, well we don't have much information about him, it seems he just...had a lot of sex and everyone he slept with speaks highly of his abilities. I don't know why that matters.”

Dean grunted and resolutely looked anywhere but at Cas or Sam.

“Never mind that Cas, so is it over, what do we need to do now?”

“Leaving town would be a good start.” and Cas clapped a hand on each brother's shoulder, transporting them to an alley not far from their car.  
They looked stunned but Dean got it together enough to ask, pointedly, if there was really nothing else about the deity that they should know.

“No heaven is taking care of it, you can get back to your usual work.”

“Okay then.” Sam said “I guess we'll head out. You coming with us Cas?”

“No I'll stay here, make sure there's nothing else to clean up.”

Dean looked unconvinced, studying Cas for a few seconds but then seemed to let it go.  
“Alright then. Thanks for riding in on your big white horse Cas, you're a regular knight in shining armour.”

“I don't have a horse, Dean.” Cas thought he was probably missing something.

“Yeah, well, thank you all the same.”

And with that they both turned to go, Sam raising his hand in farewell.

Cas heard them talking as they left, Dean wanted pie and beer and Sam asked him how he could really want to drink after being drugged unconscious mere hours ago and Dean shrugged and said it had been a rough day.

Cas watched them bicker and laugh all the way back to the impala.  
They were important, they didn't even realise how important, but walked away with far fewer worries than they should have. Cas hadn't been given permission yet to tell them that they were vessels, the most important vessels ever created, or that Tir and his followers may have thought the ritual was about destroying seals but it was really about destroying them.

They would find out, probably sooner than Cas hoped, but for now he would let them drive away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? I hope this last chapter wasn’t a let down, it does have a bit of a different tone than the first two.  
> Let me know what you think with that kudos button, or a comment if you’re feeling chatty!
> 
> You can also find me on on tumblr if you want to say hi.


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